It's an Image Thing
by lynn.reist
Summary: He still walked around in a moth-eaten cloak from an era and a half ago. Yuffie contemplates marriage. Yuffentine.


Author's Note: I'm not particularily fond of the writing in this fic, and I'll be the first to admit it hasn't been read a second time let alone been revised. Feel free to hack it to shreds. Some of you may totally disagree with the message in this story, so feel free to yell at me about that too. It's short, it's sweet, it's got unnecessary sarcasm that some of you may not like also. In general, I apologize for anything incorrect, unfeeling, racist (i don't think there's any of that, but just in case), heartless, untimely, out of character, or random that occurs in this story. Please, please find in your hearts to fogive me. And throw in a review while you're at it.

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"We should get married."

Their evening prior to this comment was one of uncommon quiet and tranquillity. The ninja had left her Conformer underneath the bed, and the gunslinger's revolver was displaced on the nightstand, drawing no distraction from one another or their surroundings as they sat in peace, held gingerly in each others arms as the sun set behind the mountains.

It was in this silence and comfort that the ninja allowed her thoughts to permeate her conscious, an act sufficient in the making of a headache, but still a nice thing to do now and again. Naturally (as thoughts tend to do when you are effectively trapped between a man's knees and are wrapped in the warmth of his arms) her thoughts turned to the gunslinger that was not only loved for his melancholy, but his great body, too. With a wistful sigh she snuggled back against him, welcoming the touch of his lips on her temple.

He was her rock in hard times, as she was his, and yet he made an excellent pillow. He was serious and stern, but had learned to laugh (thanks to her), learned the importance of his own existence (thanks to her), and learned once more how to love. She chalked that one up to her own meticulous tutoring as well.

Yuffie's eyes closed softly and she breathed in the scent of him that wafted all around her. It was a manly scent, she decided, breathing it in loudly. Cedar and spices, like cinnamon and basil. It was a smell she was most used to, and would surely miss should she not have the opportunity to smell it again. She subconsciously stiffened at the idea, although the act was not unnoticed by Vincent, whose fingers caressed her jaw gently, allowing her to relax once more.

It simply could not occur, that. She would simply wither to nothing if she could no longer feed from his scent, his taste, his warmth, his strength, his love.

"Vinnie?"

He exhaled his breath past her ear as if reluctant to break the silence. "Yes, Yuffie?"

"We should get married."

To her surprise, he did not get up and walk away. He did not loosen his arms from around her, and his body did not tense nervously at her back. She turned her head slightly to look at him, and found his face was utterly calm. Yet he did not say anything.

She would have been offended if he had left her, or taken his arms away, or even stiffened at the idea of her proposal. She would have been concerned if he looked distraught, but his silence was the worst of all: her self-consciousness seeped into her very core, causing her defences to leap into action.

And as everyone knows, Yuffie's defence strategy is to talk: a lot.

"Well, I mean, we're already living together, and I love you and stuff, but… if you don't want toitsokayIunderstandentirely…"

"Yuffie…"

"It'slikeIalreadyknowyouloveme butitsanimagethingyouknow?"

He didn't know. He still walked around in a moth-eaten cloak from an era and a half ago. Image things simply did not concern the man.

"It's not like anything's going to change, we've bitched like a married couple since the day we met. You know what, never mind, it was a stupid—hmmrph."

The kiss caught the woman off-guard, but it was a very welcome distraction. She let her eyes flutter closed and sighed as she melted happily, her muscles uncoiling. By the time he pulled away from her, she was in such a state of delirious bliss that it didn't occur to her to open her eyes until his deep and gentle voice gave her the soft command in the form of her name rolling from his tongue.

Her eyes drifted open and she looked at him. "Yes Vincent?"

"It's not a stupid idea."

She blinked. What's not a stupid idea? Suddenly the recollection was triggered in her memory and her face went red. "It really kinda was, actually."

She couldn't bring herself to look at him and his hands held hers, and a questioning look took his countenance. "Why?"

"Well just 'cuz. I mean, I know I love you; you know I love you. You know you love me, and I know you love me. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Yes."

"Well then, why bother getting married? I mean, for the prudes out there, there are some perks: living together, eating together, sleeping together…pure unadulterated sex. We have these things, Vinnie. And let me tell you, this little chemistry thing we have happening in the sack is probably 80 billion times better than any married couple." She made a point to bring up the gentle blush on his face at a later date. "So what I'm saying is, marriage is really only something used to show everyone who _doesn't _matter in the actual marriage that these two poor suckers are in love and are now legally bound to stay that way."

"You don't want to be legally bound to stay that way?"

"It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't need to." Her eyes lifted to his face. "Do you?"

A breath of a laugh escaped him and he shook his head.

Yuffie nodded, turning back around and situating herself back in her lover's arms, her head nestled comfortably in the crook of his neck. It really was quite silly of her to propose such an idea: it seemed like something insecure people would need in order to make themselves feel better about a shaky relationship. She certainly couldn't picture Vincent going anywhere anytime soon, and she knew she'd be stupid to think she could find anyone that she loved as much as him. Still, the idea was kind of pleasant, but for none of the reasons she had stated audibly. She knew Vincent didn't do societal norms, but she had dreamed of getting married since she was a little girl. She could live without, however: what they had was almost as good anyway.

She gave a soft smile of content. Yes, this could tie her over for the rest of eternity. The warmth of his body against hers, the gentle whisper of his breath past her ear, his fingers gently gliding over the exposed skin of her arm: as long as he loved her, it didn't matter that she didn't share his last name.

She rolled the name around in her mind. Yuffie Kisaragi-Valentine White Rose of… Nibleheim? Well maybe she wouldn't go that far. Yuffie Kisaragi-Valentine. Yuffie Valentine. Mrs. Vincent Valentine.

"Yuffie…"

Her ears perked at the low tenor of his voice. "Mm?"

"We should get married."

A smile slipped across her face, and she melted further (if it was possible) into his arms. "'Kay."

"December?"

"Sure."

His lips touched her cheek and her eyes fluttered closed. She didn't squeal or cry or hug him tightly, because nothing changed. She was still Yuffie, and he was still Vincent, and they both still loved each other, and they both still knew it.

When they told Tifa, however, she nearly fainted in shock, or elation, or whatever emotion it was she felt appropriate to express with a multitude of tears and a lot of wailing.

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A/N: inspired by my parents' engagement story. My mom had to move out of residence in university, so my dad suggested they just get married so that she wouldn't have to find an apartment. She never got much of a proposal.


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